


Living

by ladypredator



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Comedy, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypredator/pseuds/ladypredator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Worried about Col. Young's behavior, Lt. Johansen goes to the one man who might offer practical advice, but finds far more than she expected. Rated M, though mostly PG. The epilogue is just a fun add-on, the story can stand without it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Another silent fight. Another long session of staring helplessly into the eyes of a man she had once thought she loved and seeing nothing but guilt and embarrassment – enforced distance, even distaste – gazing back at her. He blamed her for his marriage problems; he clung to another woman half the universe away. He'd closed himself off completely from her. Worse, he was closing himself off from everyone.

His behavior had become increasingly erratic lately; in fact, he'd sounded outright paranoid at times. That scared her. She'd always considered him a reliable leader and someone she trusted, but that had eroded away. He'd slowly chipped away at it until there was nothing left and she was faced with the tough decision of how to handle the present situation alone. Would she – could she – question the Colonel's mental health? But after Spencer's death due to lack of action – on Everett's part, on her own part - she was too worried to ignore the obvious warning signs.

Tamara hurried down the long corridor, ignoring a tendered greeting by someone she didn't even see, her mind in turmoil. There was only one person she could speak to and even that would difficult. Dr. Rush wasn't the easiest person to approach and she knew he thought she was blindly loyal to Everett with whom he was almost invariably at odds. And Everett would see it as the ultimate betrayal. Yet, she felt strongly that this had to be done.

Despite all the stress and danger and strain, Rush had remained calm and controlled. The man had been accidentally left for dead after a rockslide on a desert planet and had still found his own way back to Destiny. He was brilliant: always thinking, always analyzing, always utterly pragmatic. He was treated like a pariah at best and yet he always came through for them in a crisis. He was an enigma, eccentric and idiosyncratic, but also a tower of strength. She desperately needed that strength, that wisdom, that practical judgment.

Yet the moment she walked into the control room, she found that very same utterly rational man completely flustered and flushed, trying to fend off Lisa Park. The pretty, bouncy geologist was just about throwing herself at him and Rush looked like he'd rather be stuck back on that planet. In fact he looked like he was just about to explode.

It was hard not to laugh, but sympathy overcame amusement, just barely, and given that combination of relieving emotions, Tamara just couldn't help herself.

Stepping into the room, she called out "Nicholas?" When he turned a pair of huge, brown, pleading eyes on her, gratefully taking the excuse to slip further away from Park, she gave him her warmest smile, went to him, and slid her arms around his neck.

Darling, did you forget to eat again?" she asked, leaning in to kiss him on the mouth. She'd meant it to be a light brush, but the contact was electric, hot and sweet, his lips moving softly under hers. His hair was silken soft as it curled over her hands on the nape of his neck, and his arms closed around her. She could feel a half-smile curving his lips as he responded to her kiss; yes, he was a clever man, he knew instantly what she was doing.

It should still have remained a fleeting kiss, a gimmick to fend off Park, but it deepened as she melted into him, her mouth opening to his, tasting his lips, his breath. His embrace tightened and she threaded a hand through his hair, feeling it tumble through her fingers. His tongue tangled with hers and her entire body shivered. He felt so good, warm and hard and male. She had forgotten how good it felt to be held like this, to be kissed like this, like she was a delicious treat to be savoured. He was thorough and deliberate in his exploration of her mouth and she clung to him, offered herself up to him.

There was something strange in this; she'd never even considered it with this man. She'd never even stopped to think of him as an emotional being, much less a sexual one. He was so acutely intellectual; his genius mind combined with an acerbic wit and a fiercely solitary nature to define him so completely that she had never been aware of him in this way before. Yet, now, it seemed so natural, so inevitable, so perfect to dissolve in his arms and abandon herself to him.

She was so lost in the moment that she was shocked when he stopped kissing her. She protested wordlessly, trying to pull his mouth back down on hers, and was rewarded with a slight brush of his lips over hers before he looked up and over her shoulder.

Awareness slowly flooded back and her cheeks flushed as she remembered they had an audience; that this had started purely as a performance for that audience. Swearing mentally at herself, she forced herself to turn around, relieved when Rush didn't release his hold on her, continued to embrace her, support her. She could lean back against him as she met Park's stunned eyes. That felt good –too good –a possessiveness she didn't know she was capable of made her wrap her hands over Rush's forearms, holding them to her, a satisfied, predatory smile she wouldn't have recognized as her own curling her lips as she stared at the other woman.

"I'm sorry, Lisa, did I interrupt your work?" she asked, almost purring as Rush's chin settled on her shoulder, his long bangs brushing against her cheek.

"No, no, I mean, I was just, you know, going… to do some work… on something," Park stammered, blushing with obvious discomfort and edging towards the door. "I'll just – uhh – leave you, you know, get going." She scurried out of the room.

Rush's deep chuckle sounded in Tamara's ear. "Thank you," he said. "I wasn't sure I'd get out of that in one piece." His grip loosened and she turned back to him, almost afraid to meet those penetrating, dark eyes of his, but he was smiling at her with a warmth she'd never seen before on his expressive face. It was infectious; she had to smile back.

"You're welcome. I'm afraid she's become a bit of a problem," she replied ruefully.

His mouth twisted into a more wry expression. "Plenty of those around here."

She nodded, her stomach beginning clench as her reasons for seeking him out returned in full force.

"Dr. Rush," she began.

"Nicholas," he interrupted. Again, there was that surprisingly gentle smile from him. "I think you've earned that."

And again, she had to smile back. It was hard not to reach for him; once stirred, that surprising attraction rapidly solidified into need, but it would have to wait. There was a flicker on something in his eyes, the furrows around his mouth deepening, and she knew he understood. So observant, his mind was scarily fast, yet that was the very reason she'd come to him.

"Nicholas," she corrected herself, enjoying the way his name sounded on her tongue – she could still taste him – "We need to talk. Privately."

He nodded. All business now. Serious and intent, he took her elbow and guided her from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Nicholas led her through long, winding corridors, down step ladders, and finally into a tiny room that contained no more than a small couch, one table and a chair, all facing a huge window that looked out into space. The room was lit only by the stunning glowing lights of the universe as it sped past them. He guided her to the cushioned sofa which was close enough to the window that she could reach out and touch its cold, sheer surface.

"It's gorgeous," she breathed softly.

"Aye, it is," he responded in a matching tone. She looked a question at him and he gave her another fleeting smile. "I found this a while ago and when I need privacy to think, I come here. So far, I don't think it's been located by the ever-present Kino's."

"Eli," she sighed, then another thought struck her hard. She swallowed into a suddenly dry throat, "or Colonel Young?"

His sudden, appraising glance gave her the answer she needed. She nodded, rubbed at the back of her neck which was painfully tight, muscles knotted with stress.

"It's bad, isn't it?" she asked, both knowing and fearing the answer.

"It's been bad – and getting worse," he replied, his voice remaining characteristically calm and dry. Yet something flickered in his eyes, his expression, and found herself wondering what depths lay under that cool surface.

"He used to be so solid," she replied, "but lately, well, ever since we ended up here, he's been acting less and less like himself. He won't talk to me anymore." She paused, bit off her words. How did she discuss this without bringing up her aborted personal relationship with Everett Young? That still had the power to hurt. She didn't love him anymore, if she ever had, sometimes she wondered about that, but now that trust and friendship were dying as well, the situation was even more raw. She didn't know how to talk about this without sounding like the proverbial woman scorned – and she knew, if she was utterly honest with herself, that those emotions were part of the mix.

The silence stretched as she searched for words, but Nicholas came to her rescue. "I know it's hard on you, given your relationship…" He trailed off as she gasped and stared at him in shock. He knew?

He touched the back of her hand, a quick rapid tap of fingers barely brushing her skin. "I – well, I'm pretty observant, most of the time, and it was rather obvious. I'm sorry. I could see it ended badly."

The gentle, lilting tone of his voice, colored by the foreign sweetness of his Scottish accent, broke the dam inside her. She'd had no one to talk to, no one to confide in; like any illicit affair, it had begun and ended in secrecy, leaving her feeling alone, worthless, the abandoned other woman who didn't dare express her hurt. After all, she was supposedly the villain of the piece, the one trying to break up his marriage. That had been the accusation, still was, and it was such a deep ache within her that when Nicholas looked at her with such sympathy, such simple, aware understanding, she found herself spilling it all to him.

Tamara ended up blinking back tears, staring out at the glittering lights flowing past them, her throat dry and hoarse. Silence fell again as she stopped speaking. He remained still at her side, just sitting with her, letting her recover her breath, her equilibrium. She appreciated that. No stupid words from him, no useless apologies for something that wasn't his fault, just a quiet acceptance. And when she was ready to turn and finally look at him, it was a simple, tender smile he offered, and another quick brush of his fingers over hers.

"Thanks," she said.

"Any time," he replied.

They sat again in silence for another long moment, then she sighed and rubbed again at the back of her neck.

"There's still the issue of Everett's erratic behavior. He's become so paranoid and I know I'm not imagining that. Am I?"

"No." It was his turn to sigh. "He's been spying on people for weeks, using Eli and the Kinos, for a long time. Maybe from the very beginning. I figured out that he was watching me – in particular – not too long after Telford's idiotic attempt to blow us all up. I had this sensation of being watched," he chuckled dryly, "which makes me sound paranoid, but I checked on it. Not too difficult. Eli couldn't be subtle if his life depended on it."

"That long…" she felt awful. She hadn't begun to suspect anything until very recently. She'd been so blind.

"There was no way you could suspect," he reassured her. "I don't think anyone else knows – and he's watching everyone. Mostly me, of course, he's rabid where I'm concerned, though I was daft enough to play into it. I should have known better." His mouth twisted, eyes narrowing, focusing inward. "I let his paranoia, his constant baseless accusations, push me into actually doing something – something fucking idiotic." It was his turn to rub at the back of his neck and stare uncomfortably out the window.

She reached out to him instinctively, taking his hand in hers, letting the contact ask the question for her.

He dropped his chin to his chest, his hair falling in thick, dark wings around his eyes, which were both sad and defiant, as he turned to look at her.

"I put Spencer's gun in the Colonel's quarters."


	3. Chapter 3

Tamara stared at him in open-mouthed shock. "What? You did that? Why? For God's sake, why?"

He rubbed wearily at his eyes, his temples, and sighed.

"I was just walking by and heard the shot. I ran in and found him dead, actually stepped on the gun and then stupidly picked it up. When I realized what had happened… Well, I…" He paused, searching for the words.

"You panicked," she finished for him.

He obviously didn't like admitting that; he grimaced but nodded his head, causing long strands of hair to fall into his eyes which he brushed aside in an automatic gesture.

"I knew how it would look. Young would jump at the chance to blame me." He gave a bitter chuckle.

"I don't exactly have a lot of friends here; who'd believe me? He'd have had a field day with it and given how increasingly paranoid he was becoming," Nicholas spread his hands wide, palms up.

"I decided to drop the blame back on him. I didn't expect anyone to really believe he'd done it. His inability to take necessary action, like putting Spencer under guard in the first place, was one of the reasons Spencer ended up dead. Instead, I hoped it would create just enough suspicion to force Camille Wray into taking command. She's barely capable, but at least she's rational. Some relative sanity was looking pretty good right about then."

"Oh, Nicholas," she replied, torn between wanting to scold him and wanting to comfort him.

"I know, I KNOW," he said. "But what choices did I have?"

"You could have talked to me," she insisted.

"I thought you were…" he waved an expressive hand in the air.

"Then Camille?" she questioned.

He shook his head, again tossed back the hair from his brow, threading his hand down to the back of his neck and kneading on it.

"I'm the pariah around here, remember. The one everyone loves to hate." He half-smiled wryly, the double dimples creasing the right corner of his mouth.

"I don't really care what people think of me, usually, it's the work that matters. The science. That's my life, not playing social games with stupid people. I don't have time for it, the social niceties, the politics, it's just a waste of time that I could spend doing something important. I prefer to be left alone to work and I have little patience for interruptions or for coping with daft people. I – well, frankly, interpersonal skills are clearly not my area of expertise."

She couldn't help laughing at the obviousness of that statement, even as she reached out to take hold of his hand, threading her fingers through his.

"Oh, I'm so surprised," she remarked. He appeared startled for a moment; then he favored her with one of his rare warm smiles.

She smiled back, but then tightened her grip on his hand.

"From now on, you come to me. Talk to me. No matter what, Nicholas, I mean it. Don't ever try anything like that again. If you see a problem, you tell me and we'll figure it out together. No more crazy stunts like that. Promise me." She punctuated her words with her fiercest glare.

He bowed his head, nodding. "I'm sorry. It was a daft move. I was desperate. Someone had to do something and I… you're right. It was wrong."

"Promise me," she repeated insistently.

"I promise. You have my word, Lieutenant," he said, lifting his head to meet her eyes with his. His fingers tightened back on hers.

"Good. And it's Tamara." She responded, satisfied with the honest, direct intensity in his expression.

"Tamara," he repeated, his accent making her name sound exotic, beautiful. "I promise, Tamara."

He let go of her hand and leaned in closer. Very lightly, barely touching her with his lips, his breath, he kissed her. Sealing his promise.

That fierce attraction that had so shocked her earlier flamed back into existence and she returned his kiss. It rapidly turned deep, needier and more intense even than the previous kiss in the control room. His mouth opened to her and she explored him this time. They didn't embrace, it was nothing but a kiss, but she felt it reverberate in every nerve in her body. She drank him in and when she finally had to come up for air, she gasped with the surprise of it.

"Wow," she breathed, resting her forehead against his.

"Yeah," was all he replied, his own respirations coming fast and heavy in his chest.

When they shifted back and looked at each other, she was startled to find him frowning, deep furrows etched in the skin of his brow.

"You know he's already tried to kill me once."

It took her a moment to understand what he had said. It didn't make sense in the moment. She tried to connect back to their conversation before that kiss; to put it aside. To concentrate, but still - she frowned back at him, shaking her head. "I don't understand."

He just looked at her. "You didn't really believe that rockslide story, did you?"

"Rockslide…" She suddenly connected with what he was saying; what it meant.

"Oh my God! The planet where you were left behind by accident." He just stared at her.

"It wasn't an accident, was it?" He shook his head, no.

"He left you – on purpose?" He nodded.

"How, what happened?" she demanded, stunned, terrified to hear the answer, but needing to know the truth.

He shrugged. "I was stupid again, too caught up in the discovery of that crashed alien ship. He sent the rest of the team back to Gate and then challenged me. Said he knew I'd taken and planted the gun, wanted to know if I'd try to lie about it."

He laughed, actually sounded amused. "It might have been better if I had tried to lie, but I told him the simple truth. That I knew he was incapable of being the leader we needed, that he was falling apart, and I'd done what was necessary to try to put someone better in charge."

She drew in a deep breath, eyes wide as he continued.

"He hit me, we fought. At least I managed to get in one good shot with a rock before he knocked me out. When I woke up, it was dark and I was alone." His face could've been carved from stone; his voice was a cool monotone, but she could feel the intensity of the emotion he was hiding behind the icy exterior. He paused, settled for a quiet, "well, you know the rest."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't know. I swear I didn't know," she told him, her voice almost breaking; her eyes pleading with him.

He shrugged his shoulders again. "There was no reason for you to doubt his story. Everyone else believed it." Something shifted in his expression and his mouth tightened. "Except Eli, it had to be Eli who gave him the clip of me taking the gun from Spencer's quarters so Eli had to know something was up. The way he's been looking at me since, half scared, half guilty, like he's afraid I'm going to attack him, yes, Eli at least suspects."

The brief laugh he gave her now was cold and bitter. "I suppose I deserved it."

"No!" she denied, reaching out to gather him up in her arms, to press his face into the curve of her shoulder. "No, you didn't deserve that. No one deserves to be abandoned like that, whatever mistakes you made."

He hesitated before returning her embrace, but when he did it was hard, encompassing, his arms like steel surrounding her. She stroked the back of his head, the nape of his neck, his shoulders, ran her fingers through his hair in a soft caress. She held him like she never wanted to let him go.


	4. Chapter 4

She was reluctant to release him; part of her wanted to stay there, curled up in his arms, the glittering universe flying past them at the speed of light, forever. But it couldn't be. There was a serious issue, a question, hanging over their heads, and the only relief she could offer herself was to let him broach the topic.

"So what now?" he asked, his fingertips lingering on her shoulders before withdrawing.

"I came to you to get your advice, remember?" she retorted, softening it with a smile.

He returned the grin, creasing those dimples around his mouth – she was becoming very fond of those, felt a flash of desire to dip her tongue into them - and then he rubbed wearily at the back of his neck.

"Maybe you should talk to Eli," he suggested. "He avoids me like the plague, but you might be able to get something out of him. If we can get proof that Young's been spying on everyone as long as I think he has…"

"Oh, I'll get the truth out of Eli," she responded, her face tightening into grim, harsh lines. "If he's been helping the Colonel spy on the rest of us – oh I have a few things to say to him." Her azure eyes gleamed, reflecting the blue lights sparking beyond the window. "And in the meantime, you go talk to Camille Wray."

"Me?" he questioned, his expression darkening with discomfort.

"You," she insisted. "Tell her that you spoke with me and that we're both seriously worried about the Colonel's state of mind. That we found out that he's been using Eli to spy on everyone and that I'm trying to find out for how long. I'll give her the information as soon as I squeeze it out of him. She won't be happy about that. Maybe she'll finally do something and stick to it."

He grimaced, but nodded agreement. "Aye, may be."

Conversation halted for a moment as he studied her, his eyes returning to their customary intensity. That focus on her, the power of it, like he was seeing both through her and inside of her, stirred a mixture of emotions. She desired that attention from him; felt a thrum of visceral satisfaction at it. Yet, she was contrarily unable to stop the clammy touch of self-doubt clawing at her. What did he see?

His hand lifted and framed her cheek, his fingers along the arch of her cheekbone, his palm pressed to her jaw. "Beauty, brains and a more than a wee bit of fire. You're one hell of a woman, Tamara Johansen," he whispered, his accent heavier than usual, it took her a moment to make sense of the words, to understand, but when she did, a fierce joy bloomed through her. How long had it been since anyone had said anything like that to her – had any man ever said something like that to her?

Before she knew what she'd done, she was kissing him again, only this time it wasn't just one kiss. He met her with a hunger that matched her own and she couldn't get enough of him; she clutched handfuls of his clothes, his hair, dug her fingers into the spare muscles of his shoulder and arms. His grip on her was just as desperate. He went with her willingly when she half-shoved, half-yanked him down onto his back on the sofa; she reared up to let him spread his legs out on the cushioned surface and then settled back down to lay on top of him.

It was a mutual fight with their clothing and she didn't bother with much more than getting their pants open and shoved aside enough for her to lower herself down on him. He was hard, hot flesh – he moaned a keening, insensible sound as she grasped him and guided him, slid down to take him inside her body, already wet, ready, hungry for him, even as she cried out in mixed triumph, exhilaration, and shock. It had been a while and he was not small; he filled her perfectly, tightly.

His hands stroked her, caressed her with a slow, tender reverence that was at odds with the pulse of his thrusts as his hips arched to meet hers. For a moment she regretted the hurried, raw pace of this; what would it be like to make love with him in a proper bed, to take time to explore their bodies, in gentle slowness? But her body was making demands of its own and she could promise herself time – later – for easier, gentler lovemaking. This moment was for passion, for pure need, and that held a satisfaction all its own.

He let her set the pace. He gave her control. He didn't hold back anything, gave her all he had as she demanded it. His body stretched taut beneath her, muscles straining beneath pale skin. In the mixture of glittering lights and shadows, his head tilted back, hair tumbling away, revealing sharp bone structure, high cutting cheekbones, stubborn jaw, prominent eyes: those deep brown pools that so dominated his face, fathomless and yet utterly expressive. She stared down into them, her hands digging into his shoulders for balance, sharing every expression, every grimace of effort and pleasure, until a final hard thrust of his hips against hers sent them both flying with the universe that glittered across their entwined bodies.

She collapsed against him and he wrapped his arms around her. Somehow they were both laughing even as they fought for breath. She nuzzled into the side of his neck, rubbing her cheek against the prickly stubble on his jaw, closed her eyes and just held on.

The aftermath of these things were usually uncomfortable in her experience. It had always been so with Everett, so it was a surprise to find an easy comfort with Nicholas. They had to squirm to sit up, struggle with recalcitrant clothes and buckles, and yet it only made them laugh a bit more. His smile was warm and genuine; no embarrassment, no doubts, no guilt marred it. She thought he should smile more often, and yet it felt good to know he was reserving that sweetness for her and her alone.

He held out his hand to her when it came time to stand and contemplate leaving this tiny, starlit haven. She took it and he guided her up and to the door. They paused briefly in the hallways outside before stepping away to fulfill their assigned tasks; he lifted her hand to his mouth and deposited a gentle kiss on it before striding away.

They hadn't exchanged another word aloud.

She smiled and followed.


	5. Chapter 5

She found Eli right where she expected him to be – hunched over the video console, manipulating both the Kinos and Destiny's internal communications system. How many more cameras were built into that she wondered? How much time had he and Young spent watching – spying – on everyone? The thought made her feel sick, sick and angry.

"Eli!" she called out, stalking into the room.

He jerked in surprise, started to smile at her, and then faltered as he looked up at her. She went close, right into his personal space, and folded her arms across her chest in an unconscious imitation of one of Nicholas' characteristic stances. Her body language, the fierce look in her blue eyes, must have made an impression because Eli shrank back, hunching his shoulders.

"Hey, TJ, what's up?" he asked, tentatively.

"How long have you been spying on us for Colonel Young?" she fired at him, straight out.

He reared back far enough to nearly fall off his stool. "Whaaaa?" he stammered.

"How long?" she demanded.

"I – uhh – it isn't really spying, just keeping an eye open. I mean the Colonel said he needed to know who he could trust – who would be causing trouble – I thought, ya know, he's in charge and all..." Eli sputtered, waving his hands in the air, almost hitting her; she was leaning in so close.

She simply glared icily at him. "I asked you how long, Eli."

"Uh, since, I think, right before the ice planet, you know before the alien bugs and Scott getting almost trapped, and all."

She thought she'd been prepared for the answer, but that shocked her. That early? She hadn't realized she'd said that aloud until she saw Eli nod nervously at her.

"Damn it!" she swore, more at herself than anyone, but then she turned angrily on the young man cowering in front of her. "Why the hell didn't you tell anyone? Tell me? Did you really think that was OK? Spying on people without their knowledge or consent? Do you have half a brain in your head?"

He held up his hands between them, palms outward, his face shocked. "I'm sorry, I thought – the Colonel ordered me to set it up for him. I thought since it was military - I just didn't think..."

"No, you didn't think!" she yelled at him. "Do you ever think? You idiot! Didn't you see how paranoid that was? How wrong? Didn't it occur to you in the slightest that the Colonel's behavior has been off? That he's become completely unstable? Do you realize what that means?"

"What exactly does that mean, TJ," interrupted another voice from behind her, a familiar deep baritone, and Tamara spun on her heels to find Everett himself staring at her.

"Colonel," Eli breathed heavily, squirming away from both of them.

Tamara held her ground, her hands settling firmly on her hips.

"You've been spying on everyone practically since we got here. What possessed you to think you could get away with that? What's happened to you, Everett? You used to be a decent man, a sane man, or at least I thought you were," she challenged.

"For God's sake," he swore. "I had to know – I have to know – who I can trust. The people here – they're all the wrong people. I needed to know what people were planning... what he was planning."

She laughed harshly. "You mean you wanted to know what Nicholas was thinking. That's what this was all about. You can't control him, he's too smart, too individualistic, you can't stick him in one of your little boxes for how people should behave, so you have him watched, you throw accusations at him, you try to control him like you try to control everyone in your life. Do you have any idea how paranoid that is?"

"He's dangerous!" Everett yelled at her.

"He's brilliant!" she yelled right back. "A true genius. Yes, he's made some mistakes but he's the only one who is going to see us through this alive. The only one who might stand a chance at getting us home someday." She caught a flicker of emotion in his eyes, the tightening of his mouth, and her mind clicked. "That's it, isn't it? You can't tolerate the fact that we need him more than we need you. That he is the one saving our lives, not you. You can't stand the idea that anyone else could be the hero except you!"

"That's not true!" he shouted.

"It is true!" she shouted back. "All those stupid risks you've taken. Nearly getting yourself killed – what – to prove yourself? And constantly undermining anything he tried to do, accusing him of ridiculous things!"

"He tried to frame me for murder!" he screamed at her.

"You tried to murder him!" she screamed, getting right into his face, poking at his chest. "You abandoned him on that planet, left him to die alone!"

He staggered back at that, shock widening his black eyes and dropping his jaw open.

She glared at him, fury glittering in her eyes and the taut lines of her face, the tense stance of her body. "He made a mistake, because he was scared of what you might do, and he was right to be scared, wasn't he? You're so blinded by your jealousy and hatred for him that you'd do anything, hurt anyone - even risk all of our lives in the process. Well, it's finished right here, right now. I'm declaring you unfit for duty and relieving you of command pending a full psychiatric evaluation."

"TJ, Tamara, you can't do this to me. Listen to me, please."

"How dare you call me that now!" she cried, an old anger rising to mingle with the new. "You didn't even call me that when we were... It makes me sick to think I let you use me like that."

He seized hold of her arms and pulled her against him. "No, please, it wasn't like that. I..." he faltered, his eyes darting away.

"You what?" she said in a scornful voice, bitter and hard. "Don't try to tell me you loved me. You can't, you never could, because you never did. I was just a toy you used and then tossed aside when your wife found out. You're not even capable of love, are you? Bastard!" Furious, she tried – and failed – to yank herself free of his grasp.

He squeezed her arms harder, painfully, and she couldn't help a quick cry of pain.

"Is that what this is about?" he accused.

Struggling against him, she spat in his face. "It's always about you, isn't it, in your paranoid, self-obsessive little fantasy world. I'm past you, Everett, finished, done. I've found a man who knows how to treat a woman with the respect she deserves! The respect I deserve!"

Understanding flared in his eyes and then his entire face darkened with fury, blind and violent, and for the first time in her life, she was actually scared of him. He shoved her up against the console, his fingers biting into her arms, shaking her roughly, violently.

"Rush," he whispered. "You bitch!" he screamed.

She screamed back at him, terror twisting through her. She tried to stab for his eyes, he seized her wrist and bent it back painfully.

"Let go of me!" she cried out. "Let me go! You're hurting me!"

He was yelling something incomprehensible back at her; she didn't hear a word.

She brought her leg up hard and kneed him sharply in the groin.


	6. Chapter 6

Tamara gasped a sob of relief as Everett doubled over with a cry of pain of his own and released his excruciating grip on her wrist. He fell back against Eli and went down in a heap against the foot of the console while she turned to flee.

As she lifted her head, the first thing she saw was Nicholas running towards her, Camille Wray barely a step behind. She reached for him, stumbled, and was caught in his arms. He wrapped himself around her and she threw her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in the curve of his neck. Now she could let the tears come, let her body tremble, in the safety of his embrace.

"Tamara! Are you all right?" she heard him ask, but her only answer was to cling harder to him. He swore harshly in her ear, heavy vowels and rolling consonants, the full color of his Glaswegian childhood emphatic in his rage. She felt him start to move, to go past her, his furious intent clear; she stopped him, one hand digging into his hair, shifting her hips against his, drawing his attention back to her.

"I'm OK, Nicholas, please," she told him. She met his eyes, those burning, narrowed, dark lasers, pressing her left palm to his cheek. "Don't."

He instantly softened, naked concern for her widening his eyes, easing the fiery intensity of his gaze, as he met her own reddened eyes. "Tamara," he said again, more softly, "if he hurt you…"

"I'm fine," she said, though she couldn't hide a wince at a sudden, sharp pain in her right wrist as she clutched at his back.

They had to pull apart just a bit for them both to look down at her arm and she instantly missed the feel of his body against hers. His fingers lifted and cradled her wrist, gently, tenderly, yet she still had to bite back a gasp of pain. Already blood was seeping from broken capillaries under her skin to create vivid black bruises.

"Oh, TJ, I'm so sorry," came another voice, a female one, and a smaller hand stretched out to hover hesitantly over theirs. "You should have told me sooner," Camille said, her lovely face shadowed in horror.

"I wasn't sure," Tamara told her, turning so that she could press closer to Nicholas sideways, his other arm around her waist, supporting her. "I didn't want to believe he was this far gone."

Nicholas let Camille take over examining her bruised wrist, shifting so that he was fully behind her, both arms now wrapped around her waist, his chin pressed to the back of her shoulder. Camille's touch was soft, but she already missed Nicholas' fingers on her skin, that sweet electric contact. Still, she flexed her fingers, moved her hand, biting at her lower lip with discomfort, but nodded satisfaction with what she found.

"It's not broken," she said. "Just bruised. I'll be ok."

"You're sure?" Camille asked. Tamara nodded again, more firmly. "I'm fine."

"Thank God," Camille breathed. Once relieved of that concern, the dark-haired woman spun on her heels to face the Colonel who was still slumped against the console, held up by an obviously distraught Eli.

"You bastard," Camille hissed at him. "You're finished. As for you, Eli, you've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know, really," he said in a high-pitched voice, almost a whine.

"Later," Camille ordered, looking past him at the console. "How do I use this thing?"

Eli had to twist around, one hand still glued to Everett's arm, partially restraining, partially supporting him, to activate the ship-wide communicator.

"Assistance needed immediately in the communications room. Lieutenants James and Scott to the communications room, NOW," she ordered.

Scott and James came running in and then skidded to a halt, staring at the group in front of them. Tamara was beginning to relax in Nicholas' embrace, though she couldn't help the occasional shiver that still shook her body. His expression was cold, angry as it bored over her shoulder at Everett, who was standing alone, his head bent down to stare at the floor. Camille was berating a miserable Eli, but both turned in response to Scott and James.

"What happened?" Scott demanded, moving towards the Colonel, but he was stopped by Camille.

"Colonel Young assaulted Lieutenant Johansen," she told him. "He is to be arrested and confined to his quarters, under guard, until we can arrange a proper trial. He is relieved of all duties. I will be in command on Destiny with your full cooperation as highest-ranking military officer."

"What the hell?" Scott exclaimed, glancing with shock from Tamara and Nicholas to the Colonel, who didn't lift his head in response; he remained fixated on the floor at his feet.

"That's insane!" Scott yelled. "For God's sake, TJ?"

"It's true," Nicholas said coldly.

Tamara reached out to Scott automatically with her right hand, about to speak, when his eyes fell on her discolored wrist. "TJ?" he asked, fear beginning to seep into his voice.

She looked down at it and then back at him with sorrow. "It's true, Matt, I'm sorry. I think he had a psychotic break. Might have had it a while ago and we – I – just missed it."

"No," Scott was still trying to deny it, but the expressions on the faces of Eli, Camille, and Nicholas were painful confirmation. He turned to the Colonel, reached out to take his arm. "Sir, please, Sir!"

Everett finally lifted his head and his eyes were only for Tamara. "I'm sorry, TJ," he whispered hoarsely. His voice rose, the broke. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I'd never hurt you."

Now her expression turned cold. Her skin paled even beyond its normally fair complexion as she turned icy blue eyes on him. "You already did," she said, her voice sharp and carefully enunciated.

"TJ," he muttered again. She shook her head and leaned back closer to Nicholas who squeezed her with his arms and rubbed his cheek against hers in comfort. Everett's face twisted in response to that obvious tenderness; a flash of fury lit his eyes and he took a step towards them.

Eli, Camille and Scott were all in the way immediately and Nicholas moved to put himself between them as well.

"Take him away," Camille ordered, glaring at Scott. The young officer bent his head in sadness but obeyed and took a firmer hold on Everett's arm. James, who had been silently watching, observing intently, stepped forward and helped him lead the unresisting Colonel from the room.

Once they were gone, the remaining four stood in silence for a moment, Camille's expression wrathful, Tamara's still cool, Nicholas' quiet and characteristically thoughtful, Eli's tearful and stunned.

It was Tamara who spoke first. "I don't want to bring charges; he's not responsible for his actions. I'll order a proper psychiatric evaluation and get the help he needs. It can't be me, of course, but we can get someone qualified on Earth to do it."

"TJ, are you sure?" Camille protested. "He attacked you, we all saw it. He could have seriously hurt you. We have to make it clear that any assault on a woman on this ship will be swiftly and severely punished."

"We will make that clear," Tamara promised. "You can explain to everyone that the Colonel – well, snapped – under the pressure and he's relieved of command until he is properly treated and recovered." She was amazed at how calm she sounded. "It should help that I'm not pressing charges. He isn't himself right now." She paused, weighing the possibilities. "And I think it's best that we keep the fact that he's been spying on everyone from the beginning to ourselves. That would just upset people more and that's the last thing we need right now. Things are bad enough."

She gazed past Camille at Eli. "The spying ends NOW. No more flying Kinos all over the ship and watching people. If I catch you doing it again, Eli, the Colonel won't be the only one with bruised balls."

There was a strangled laugh in her ear while Eli blanched and cringed, holding his palms up between them. "No, I mean, I won't do it anymore. I promise! Really, TJ, I had no idea."

She frowned at him in disbelief, but let it go for the moment. "One chance only, Eli. This is it."

"OK, OK, I get it. Really," he stammered.

"Maybe you should think about it for a while," Camille said. "You've got to be in shock." Her voice turned gentle. "Put something on that wrist and then get some rest. We can talk in the morning."

"I think that's a good idea," Nicholas responded. He moved around and lifted his hands to frame her face. "I'll take you down to the infirmary and we can put some ice on that wrist?"

"OK," she agreed. He gave her one of those private, sweet smiles that she was beginning to think of as hers alone, then swiveled to nod at Camille and fix Eli with a short-lived, but nonetheless intense glare.

His arm around her waist, they left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

It felt good to be the one tended to for a change. Nicholas was as efficient at first aid as he was at everything; in a matter of minutes he was kneeling at her feet, applying a makeshift icepack to her sore right wrist.

Her jacket sleeve was in the way and she smiled down at him as she shrugged it off, failing to hide a wince as she did so.

"Bastard," he breathed as she tossed the jacket aside. His fingers found sore spots on her upper arms and she craned her neck, twisting to see matching sets of fingerprint bruises forming over her biceps.

"I'm going to take him apart, slowly, one piece at a time," Nicholas threatened, this time in precise, controlled diction.

"No, you're not," she told him firmly, placing her left palm under his chin and making him look up at her face. "I'll be fine. I handled it."

That drew a wry half-smile from him, even as he shifted his head down so that he could press a light kiss to her palm. "That you did."

She brushed a fingertip over his lips. "I am glad you were there. How did you get there so soon?"

"Ran into Camille in the hallway. As it happens, she had similar suspicions about the Colonel. She wasn't particularly disposed to hear it from me, but when I said that you were concerned and were confronting Eli, she insisted on participating. So we went to find you."

"Thank you," she said softly. "I don't know if I could have done this without you."

"You would have done fine," he told her, looking up at her with open admiration. A sensation she barely recognized as happiness, it had been so long since she'd felt something so simple, so pure, flooded through her and she leaned forward to kiss him, but she was interrupted by hurried steps and another voice.

"TJ! Are you all right? What the fuck happened?" Greer came stalking over towards her, an obviously upset Scott on his heels. They sat down on the bed opposite her and Nicholas rose to turn and sit next to her instead of kneeling at her feet.

"The Colonel attacked her," Nicholas summed up.

"I can't believe he'd do that!" Greer objected, but his eyes were already running over Tamara. She didn't know the picture she made, but she felt a mess. Her hair was half-down over her shoulders and she could feel dried tear-tracks on her cheeks. She tried to lift her hands to re-secure her hair, but her right arm was still wrapped in the ice pack. That fell off and Greer gasped at the sight of her wrist.

"Proof enough for you, Sergeant," Nicholas commented disdainfully, gesturing towards the vivid bruises on her upper arms as well.

"Jesus," Greer whispered. "Son of a bitch! How could this happen?"

"Stress," she said. "We've all been under incredible pressure, the Colonel especially. He was badly injured when we got here and I don't think he ever recovered – at least not psychologically – from the trauma. He became paranoid, started spying on everyone." She shook her head. "Eli says he's been watching us since before the ice planet."

"What?" That was Scott. "I knew Eli was always playing around with the Kinos doing his documentary thing, but surely the Colonel wouldn't…"

Nicholas gave a dry chuckle. "He would and did. I figured it out not long after Telford's attempt to kill us all. He was always taking Eli away for 'private' duties. And Eli's not quite as good with the computer systems as he thinks he is. I could follow everything he was doing easily enough, once I knew to look."

"Why the hell didn't you tell anyone?" Greer demanded.

"He told me," Tamara said. "I've been worried about the Colonel's state of mind for a while now and Doctor Rush just confirmed it."

"I had no idea," Greer said, worried now, his face taut with concern and dawning guilt. "He seemed to be doing OK, as well as could be expected given the state of things here."

"I didn't see it either," Scott said, misery etched in his boyish face. "And I should have.

Tamara shook her head. "I didn't see it as soon as I should have either. He's good at hiding his emotions, he always has been. And maybe I just didn't want to see it."

"I saw it," Nicholas commented with a touch of familiar arrogance. They all looked at him. He shrugged expressively.

"He was right," Tamara said.

"Yeah, you've got a very unfortunate tendency in that direction, Doc," Greer said, rubbing at his eyes. "So what do we do now?"

"Camille Wray is talking about a court martial," Scott said.

"No," Tamara replied, insistently. "I won't press charges. He needs help, not more stress. If we were on Earth, I'd probably have him committed for treatment. Here – we just have to do the best we can. Give him as much rest as possible and see if the SGC can send through a trained therapist with the Stones."

"I appreciate this, TJ," Scott said. "The only thing he would say to me is how sorry he was, that he wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you."

Nicholas looked unconvinced, but Tamara forestalled whatever angry comment he was about to make by taking hold of his hand and squeezing it tightly.

He frowned but gave way to the steely determination in her eyes. "That's your choice, I respect that, but he remains under guard. And I don't want him anywhere near you. He still poses a real danger."

She nodded agreement, threading her fingers through his. For a moment, she was caught up with him, as though they were alone. She leaned towards him, wanting to kiss him – but they weren't alone.

"So how long has this been going on then?" Greer interrupted, pointing at them.

"How long has what been going on?" asked a confused Scott, his innocent eyes wandering between the three of them.

"TJ and Rush here," Greer explained with a smirk on his face. "Lisa – Dr. Park – told me she saw the two of you in quite a clinch this morning."

"What? You?" Scott exclaimed. "Seriously?"

Tamara sighed and Nicholas nearly growled. "That woman is a menace," he said.

She couldn't help herself, perhaps there was some hysterics in it, but she laughed aloud.

"Oh, Nicholas, the look on your face when she made that pass at you," she laughed even harder. It was infectious, both Greer and Scott grinned as well.

"Very funny," Nicholas responded gruffly.

"It's not that bad, Doc," Greer told him, barely stifling a laugh of his own. "She's actually a pretty good lay."

Nicholas shivered. "I do not want to hear that. I do not even want to think about it."

"You'd better not," Tamara said firmly, though she was still grinning. She was gratified when the responding look in his eyes told her more strongly than words that she had absolutely nothing to worry about in that regard.

"I'm going to have to have a word with her," Nicholas did say. "This behavior has to stop."

"How about letting me handle her," Greer said with a smirk. "I think I can keep her occupied."

Scott snorted and Greer elbowed him.

"She's one of scientists, it's my responsibility," Rush told them sternly. When they all looked at him, he frowned, waved an elegant hand in the air. "I am senior scientist on this project and it is supposed to be my job to run the scientific investigations and supervise the scientific staff. The Colonel refused to let me do it, but it is what I was hired to do."

"He's right," Tamara said pointedly.

"Again," Scott shook his head. "She's all yours, Doctor Rush. I wouldn't want to attempt it."

"Yeah, 'cause Chloe would kick your ass if you looked at her twice." Greer chuckled, enjoying the relief of teasing his friend. He turned back, a bit more seriously, to Nicholas. "OK, you speak to her, but take it easy. She doesn't mean any harm."

Nicholas' mouth twisted wryly, but he nodded. "I won't argue if you can keep her out of trouble, Sergeant. In fact, the less I happen to hear about it, the better."

"Just make it very clear that you're off limits," Tamara said. "Chloe's not the only one who can kick ass if necessary." She softened it with a smile, a gentle stroke of his cheek. He leaned in to kiss her, but they had barely brushed lips when both Greer and Scott groaned loudly.

"Ewww, get a room," Scott said, with exaggerated disgust.

"Yeah, there are things I don't want to hear about – or see, for that matter," Greer added.

"Perhaps you would care to walk me to my quarters, Doctor," Tamara asked with equally exaggerated politeness.

Nicholas raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "It would be my pleasure, Lieutenant."

They left to sniggers from Greer and a slightly bemused, slightly worried look from Scott.


	8. Chapter 8

Behind the closed door of her quarters, she grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tumbled him onto her bed. She felt like she was falling, and he caught her, flung her over so that he could settle his weight on her and then they were kissing, drinking each other in.

It was flashes of time, moments caught as though by strobe light, a struggle with her boots, with his belt, discarded items of clothing thrown heedlessly across the room. The sensation of his skin on hers, smooth except for the scratchy feel of his chin and jaw as it rubbed against her – her cheeks, her neck, her breasts, her belly, her inner thighs. The rasp of his tongue as it seemed to find every inch of her. The frustrating tease as he licked around the side of her breasts until she took rough handfuls of his hair and aimed him, followed by the electric lance of pleasure as his mouth took possession of her nipples and worked them into aching centers of building need, magnified desire.

The incredible flood of sensation as his mouth, those slender, clever fingers dipped lower, stroking, teasing, entering her, and tossing her over the edge. Her own cries distant in her ears as handfuls of his hair slipped through her hands and her body convulsed. The hard, ready, heavy feel of him in her hands as she curled her hands around him; the growl deep in his throat, harsh and desperate, as she guided him to her, into her. The visceral satisfaction as he slid deep on first thrust, his hips grinding against her, his forehead dipped down towards hers even as the muscles strained in his neck, and another hissing moan escaped his lips.

The surprising strength of the muscles of his upper arms and shoulders, straining under her hands, as he moved over her, slow, too slow, holding himself back at first, tantalizing them both, and then the sudden release as she wrapped her legs around his back, yanked him in for another devouring kiss, rotated her hips against his. The fierce battle of his body against, inside, over hers, as she met his increasingly desperate pace with equal hunger of her own; tongues sliding in a matched duel over each other, over teeth, lips, jaws. The taste of his sweaty skin in her mouth as she bit down on the curve of his neck and he sobbed out her name in a long, rolling sound. The final keen of her own voice as he shuddered and shattered in quick, rough, stabs of his hips and she dove after him.

She felt empty when he withdrew from her, but he was still there, his arms surrounding his, his breath in her mouth, not kissing any more, just there, touching. His hands stroked through her disarrayed hair, tossing a few last pins on the floor, then drawing handfuls down across her shoulders and back. His mouth left hers as he buried his nose in her hair, smelling her, then he pressed soft, lingering kisses to her shoulder, her neck, his tongue teasing at her ear. She continued to stroke his shoulders, the nape of his neck, his scalp, the bony length of his spine. Slowing caresses now, gentling, relaxing together.

When he finally lifted his head to look at her face, to meet her eyes, there was only warmth in his. Those fathomless brown pools were soft, doe-like, no hardness, no guilt or withdrawal, nothing but chocolate sweetness. A smile curled at his lips, carving dimples in his cheek and she had to touch them, trace those indentations with a fingertip. His eyes blinked shut as he leaned into her hand, depositing a kiss in her palm.

"Me bonny, bonny lassie," he whispered in heavily-accented tones, the twinkle in his eyes and the deepening of those dimples telling her that this shift to the vernacular of his childhood was deliberate. That made her laugh, lightly, as she stroked some long strands of hair out of his eyes. In a strange way, this moment, the easy comfort in the aftermath of passion, the tender intimacy that he did not shy away from, was the best of all. He wanted to hold her, to keep her close, to linger in occasional kisses and soft touches. He wanted her.

His head settled on her shoulder, their bodies still entwined, sliding slowly towards sleep. He nuzzled her collarbone; she caressed the back of his head. Her eyes began to close...

And shot open in shock when the door suddenly hissed open and a familiar, round face peered in at them. Stunned eyes met hers and she sat up swiftly, waking Nicholas, who turned, took one look at the intruder and swore in vivid, vicious tones, the accent coming thick and unconsciously true now.

"You fucking wee gobshite! Eli, I am going to cane your hide!"

Eli squealed, proffered an unintelligible apology, then turned, nearly falling over in his haste, and ran from the room. Nicholas leapt up to follow, but stopped when she hit him in the back with a tossed shoe. He looked back at her, startled, and she gestured at him. "Clothes, Nicholas. Might be a good idea."

"Fuck," he swore, shrugging into shirt and pants as quickly as he could manage while she remained relaxed on the bed, enjoying the view, loving the way he moved, that combination of natural elegance and clumsy speed, graceful and expressive, yet still somehow controlled – though only just barely.

She did go to her feet before he ran out the door, grabbing him and swinging around to kiss him once again, soundly, thoroughly, before framing his face in her hands.

"Don't hurt him too badly. I'm the one who'll get stuck cleaning up the mess."

He kissed her back, hard and swift, and amusement flickered behind his fury. "Don't worry, love, I'll leave him in one piece for you."

"Good. I've got a very big needle with his name on it."

He laughed openly now, squeezed her shoulders, and stalked away in pursuit.


	9. Epilogue

Eli scurried around a corner, slipping, grabbing at a support beam to keep from falling over his own feet, then running again. For the first time he was almost grateful for Greer's painful exercise classes, but he had a bad feeling that despite being older and having managed to escape those classes, Rush was still going to be a faster runner. The man was just so thin, yet he definitely had muscles – Eli had caught that much – his mind shied away. No thinking about that. Uhn, uhn, no way.

He really should've knocked or announced himself or covered his eyes or… something, but he never in a million years expected to walk in on that. All he'd wanted to do was check on TJ and make sure she was OK. Apologize to her. He hadn't meant to walk in on her in the middle of having sex with… Oh God, he was so dead!

Where could he hide? Rush knew the ship better than anyone, except maybe Eli himself, and that was questionable. Maybe if he had people around him; maybe then Rush wouldn't tear him apart. He turned direction and ran another way.

He couldn't help remembering what he'd seen. TJ – well, OK, he had to admit that she'd featured in a private fantasy or two. Or three. Well, he was a red-blooded male after all and she was a gorgeous woman. Even more gorgeous than he'd guessed, those long pale curves, it was enough to make him stumble again, just thinking of her sprawled naked on her bed like something out of a Playboy magazine. The problem was that he then had to think about the man who'd been entwined with her.

"I'm dead," he muttered under his breath. "Shit, I'm so dead." The one glance he'd gotten at Rush's expressive face before he'd fled had told him that much. Those eyes could slice you into ribbons with one laser-like glare.

The addition of the incomprehensible Scottish insults was not a good sign for Eli's prospects for a future, much less a pain-free one. Then again, Rush was just as dangerous when he was quiet. In fact, Rush was just plain dangerous period, yelling or no yelling.

There! He knew he'd find someone in the Observation room. Chloe loved it and she was there with Scott, Volker, Park and Greer. Taking long glances over his shoulder just to make sure Rush wasn't there, he edged into the room and attempted to saunter nonchalantly up to them.

"Hi guys!" he called out, unable to keep some of the nervousness out of his voice. He supposed the constant looks back over his shoulder didn't help.

"What's going on, Eli?" Chloe asked, her face somber. She'd obviously been filled in on what had happened with Young and TJ. Volker and Park also looked visibly upset.

"Uhh, nothing, well, I mean, you know, the Colonel and all…" he stammered.

A yell sounded from down the corridor. "ELI!" Oh shit, that was Rush. How had he found him so quickly.

Eli blanched and ran behind Greer and Volker, dropping to a crouch. "I'm not here, really, I'm so not here!" he begged.

"ELI!" came the call from down the hall. Rush sounded utterly furious. "Oh shit, oh shit," he murmured.

Greer was as straight-forward as always. He grabbed Eli by the side of his jacket. "What did you do?"

"Unh, nothing," he squeaked, but the four faces looking down at him were clearly disbelieving. "Nothing, really, I just went to check to see if TJ was OK. If she needed anything, anyway, I went into her quarters…"

"You went into her quarters?" Scott asked, understanding beginning to dawn on his face. "Was Rush with her?"

Greer started grinning as did Park. Volker and Chloe just looked confused.

"Uh yeah, he was, well, they were, I mean…" Eli felt his skin blush bright red.

"You walked in on them in the middle of having sex, didn't you?" Greer sad before breaking into rollicking laughter.

"What?" Volker gasped.

Chloe just stared at him in shock. When he bit his lip and nodded, still blushing vividly, she shook her head at him. "Oh, Eli," she sighed, "You idiot."

"Wait a minute," Volker said. "You're telling me that Rush and TJ…"

"Oh yeah," Park interjected. "I caught them together earlier today, kissing, in the control room."

"Seriously?" Volker asked incredulously. Everyone else nodded. Greer was still laughing. Park was starting to giggle.

Scott looked down at Eli, crossed his arms across his chest, and slowly moved his head side-to-side. "You do realize that you're in deep shit, Eli," he said with apparent calm.

"I'm so dead," Eli moaned.

"ELI!" sounded from the doorway. Rush stalked in, a fury on bare feet, his hair even more disarrayed than usual, half of it in his face. He shoved it aside with an annoyed hand, but it only fell down again in feathered wings of dark silk around his burning eyes. "Come out you wee shite," he hissed between gritted teeth.

"Help me!" Eli mouthed at the others he was still cowering behind.

Still laughing, Greer shook his head. "Over here, Doc," he called out.

"Greer! Scott, please!" Eli cried out, before getting to his feet and grabbing at Scott's arm.

Scott simply disentangled himself and pushed Eli towards the side door. "I would recommend running, if I were you."

Eli darted for the door. Rush managed to be faster and got a handful of the hood of Eli's jacket. "I'm sorry," Eli tried. "Really, I am. Seriously, Doctor Rush, I never meant to interrupt, you know, I didn't know…"

His rambling was ignored as Rush simply dragged him across the floor to the railing and then hauled him up by his belt and leaned him over it. Eli grabbed for the railing, but his moment and weight carried him forward until he was dangling over it and only Rush's grip kept him from falling over the edge to the floor deep below.

"If you ever go into Lieutenant Johansen's private quarters again without her express permission, I will personally create an airlock and toss you out. Do you understand me?" Rush's voice was calm now. Scarily calm. Utterly precise.

"Yeah, yes, I understand. I won't. I promise!" Eli squealed.

Rush held him there a moment longer before hauling him back and dumping him unceremoniously at his feet. Eli lay there, gasping, while Rush glared down at him for a second, then turned and stalked out of the room.

Scott, at least, gave him a hand to help him back to his feet, even though he was laughing, as was everyone else.

"Hey," Eli said, trying to straighten himself out, smoothing down his clothes and running a hand through his curly hair, "it's not that funny."

"I think it's very funny," Greer said between guffaws. "What do you think Docs?"

Volker and Park both giggled. They were probably just happy it wasn't them Rush had been after this time, Eli thought uncharitably.

"I'm hardly Doctor Rush's biggest fan," Chloe said, grinning, "but he has a point. If I ever catch you walking into my quarters without knocking first, I'll kick your ass."

"She can do it," Scott commented.

Volker grimaced. "Actually, I'd be less worried about Rush than Lieutenant Johansen," he said. "He yells a lot. She sticks needles in you."

Greer grinned. "I'd stay away from the infirmary for a while, if I were you."

All the blood drained from Eli's face. He hated needles. He really, really – really – hated needles.

"I, uh, I think I'm gonna go, umm, see if Brody needs any help, you know, down on the other side of the ship. He stepped sideways towards the exit and then stopped and peered both ways out of the door. "If anyone wants to find me… well, you know, not everyone, but… I'll be there for a while. Like a week or something."

Then he ran for it again.


End file.
